


Familiar Strangers

by ninanna



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a Tumblr Post, Coincidences, M/M, One Night Stands, Romantic Comedy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninanna/pseuds/ninanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise does not particularly want a relationship but he does not particularly not want a relationship either. He would much prefer simply focusing on his career and continue sometimes asking for dick pics from that one night stand he had a couple of months ago because the guy has a truthfully beautiful package. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, his dear boss has been adamant about introducing him to her son, whom she keeps on mentioning during breaks and chats and oh, would you look at that, apparently he will definitely be coming to the company's New Year's party.</p>
<p>Kise thinks fate is cruel but it turns out fate has a lot more to offer to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for aokise day but I couldn't finish it on time because... illness ;(
> 
> It is based on the following [prompt on tumblr](http://queerscotty.tumblr.com/post/99532220369/fic-where-they-know-each-other-but-they-dont-know):  
> my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick AU
> 
> I don't think you need this hint but: they are the same person... :')

 

He hates the days where he wakes up before the alarm starts ringing because it means he is losing on some serious beauty sleep, which he does not actually need because he is very beautiful in his humble opinion but he still would like to get, just in case, thank you, please.

 

It is especially infuriating when this happens on Monday mornings. Like now.

 

He cracks an eye open and sighs, his mouth feels dry, worse yet his lips feel dry, his eyes are tired and he is hard. He hates being hard in the mornings because it is too much trouble, especially when he is also feeling horny—legitimately horny. It is not often but it is not rare either and being a working adult without any partner he is seriously thirsty for sometimes such whims of his libido feel very annoying. He thinks about ignoring it for a moment; going to the bathroom and taking a shower longer than usual since he surely has got the time for it. However a stray thought catches his interest and he cannot let it go. He thinks, it wouldn’t work now. Not at this hour. But the fate is tempting him and he is so very curious like he was the first time he did it.

 

So he does it again.

 

He grabs his mobile phone from the other side of the bed and quickly swipes and taps and once the LINE is launched, he clicks to the now-familiar name and types with a sheepish smile on his face:

 

**dick plz? pretty plz?** **(* >ω<)**

 

He waits for a few seconds but as he waits the realisations dawn on him; the hour reads 7:12 in the morning and this is barely-an-acquaintance that he is asking a dick picture from. It feels rather spoiled and he is almost ready to drop his phone back to bed and go take that much needed shower when his phone beeps and he receives a text message rather than the requested photo.

 

**do u fucking kno what time its?**

 

He chuckles because he can imagine—after all he still remembers this person’s face in addition to his very impressive package—his one night stand from a couple of months ago groaning those very words with a grimace on his irritatingly handsome face. He doesn’t expect to receive a picture afterwards but he does anyway, much to his pleasant surprise.

 

It is pretty. _Fuck._

 

Kise Ryouta has been gay all his life, in fact he has never had sex with a woman at all; he has been about dicks since he ever discovered sexuality as a thing at all. Yet, in all his eleven years of being sexually aware, he has ever seen a penis as beautiful as Daiki’s.

 

It kills him. Because after all they are pretty much strangers; a quick fuck after a particularly energetic night of clubbing—that’s all they were. That’s all they are. The only semblance of a relationship they have now is that Kise will randomly ask for pictures of Daiki’s private beast.

 

Even this very unconventional form of communication they have started by an accident. In their drunken haze they had exchanged numbers, apparently, and they both used LINE, apparently, and Daiki once sent a picture of his dick to Kise by mistake on LINE—he was supposed to send it to another ‘friend’ as he had put it. It was a happy coincidence for Kise who didn’t shy away from sharing his gratitude and the compliments seemed to work especially well on Daiki. Soon they became… this weird thing that Kise had no name for. “Dick selfie buddies”? Though it was only ever Daiki who sent them. “Sext buddies”? But then they didn’t really sext other than Daiki sending the photo and Kise jerking off on it—on most occasions; sometimes he merely stared at it and sighed or tittered.

 

Thus Kise Ryouta, twenty-four years old and single, lies there just wistfully gazing at the photograph of a very brown and very good looking male genitalia in 7:14 am.

 

_Fuck_ , he thinks. _Fuck, indeed._

 

* * *

 

 

 

“My son also likes basketball,” his equally tough and kind manager interrupts the conversation with a smile. Kise smiles back out of respect though his heart is definitely frowning.

 

Truth be told, he likes his manager.

 

Ms. Aomine might be stern at times, some even describe her as ruling the domestic branch of their world-famous airlines with an iron fist, but Kise knows how much of a softie she can be. She is especially protective of her subordinates and never lets other departments hassle her teams. She is very professional and progressive too, not letting others even try discriminate against Kise because of his sexual orientation. Unfortunately, though, since he has mentioned that particular detail of him being gay one day in small talk at lunch, she has started talking about her son a bit too often.

 

They are mostly harmless comments but they do follow a specific logic: mostly praising and even when complaining, it is almost as if the qualities that are being complained about are somehow complementary to Kise’s own. For instance a week ago when Kise grumbled about food and admitted to how picky he is, Ms. Aomine was quick to inform that so was her son. Kise tries to play it casual but it is hard when he can clearly remember how a month ago, during an evening outing to celebrate a successful project completion, between drinks Ms. Aomine mentioned her son being bisexual. So Kise cannot help but think that she might be trying to match them up.

 

Ms. Aomine nudges him, “do you watch NBA? Because he cannot get enough of it. Then he will talk about it in family dinners. Nobody else gets it—all those American names too. But I bet you like that as well?”

 

“Ah yes,” Kise continues smiling politely—his days as a teenager model has helped him perfect faking such politesse and he is now infinitely grateful about it, “I do watch NBA.”

 

She is definitely trying to get them together.

  

It is not that he is not interested in a relationship. He is interested in having a relationship but all his previous relationships have been true disasters. He likes having a space and wants to be friends in addition to lovers which is not easy to achieve. He cannot handle or accept any possessiveness and it seems society is prone to condition men that way—gay or straight or whatever, he has learnt this is common, unfortunately. It also doesn’t help that his last 'official' boyfriend cheated on him. It hurt. A lot. Trust issues now rule his heart.

 

He wouldn't mind a relationship and he is good at socialising and he is good-looking, but he is not well-experienced in making a relationship work and frankly, his personality is not the easiest. He knows that and respects when people cannot handle him anymore either. On top of it all, he can be rather petty and has very high standards.

 

The last thing he wants is to have his workplace poisoned and career also affected by his incompetence in maintaining relationships or finickiness in men. He is not sure how he can tell this to his boss of all people though, especially when her eyes shine so obviously as she rambles about her son. It is a bit overwhelming. It also makes him very curious about the son in question which is not a good development so he mentally kicks himself for that.

 

“That’s great! Well, talking about him, actually, he will be coming to the company’s New Year’s party.”

 

“Eh?” Kise deadpans, lost in his own thoughts and not quite connecting the dots for a second.

 

“My son, I’m saying, he’ll definitely be in the party next week.” Ms. Aomine beams, unruffled and confident.

 

Kise manages one last smile before his dear manager exclaims that she is about to be late for her meeting and leaves.

 

His life is doomed.

 

It proves to be so in the upcoming days as his usually-lovely-but-not-so-much-nowadays boss keeps reminding him about how her son will certainly be attending the party. His whole work week is shadowed with this unsavoury news; he spends his lunch breaks thinking about ways to skip this particular corporate event that will intrude into his personal life. As a result his beloved salads go half eaten and head aching miserably; he doesn’t know what to do.

 

Because he has to go to this party. He made the mistake of ditching his colleagues in the first year he joined and quickly learnt how much of a blunder it was. These occasions were crucial for networking and ensuring that you are well-liked, well-received; New Year’s celebration is one of the biggest and the company spends a lot of money for it, not only is the food and place amazing, all the upper management participates too so it means a great opportunity for positive exposure. He does not doubt all his superiors will want to introduce him to their own superiors because he has performed excellently so far and his dashing looks makes him a good candidate for such show offs. He does not appreciate such shallowness in his private relations but for sure he will use it to the fullest in his work life—“use all your assets to secure the victory and work till your ass drops off” is his strategy.

 

He has to go this party and he wants to go to this party but he does not want to go to this party and he should not go to this party and it is as if there is a heavy metal concert going on inside his head and he is so tired.

 

The next Monday, it is with these thoughts and misery that he wakes up again, fatigue ruling all his limbs and he grimly realises that no, his alarm hasn’t gone off yet. He is awake early again on yet another Monday morning which, by the way, according to what he can glimpse from the window looks very grey and foreboding.

 

He turns to lie on his stomach and buries his face on the pillow that smells softly like the mango scented shampoo he uses. This is also how he comes to recognise that he is hard and he buries his face further into the pillow, feeling a building urge inside him to scream and curse his life. It would be unfair, however, because he meets all the criteria of success that most strive for: he has a good income, he is very healthy, and he is absolutely gorgeous. His dear friend Kuroko keeps repeating that he should be more grateful about what he has. Remembering Kuroko also makes him remember that one time weeks ago when Kuroko asked if he’d like to go on a blind date with this other friend of his, but he rejected because he was in the middle of an important assignment and had no time for dating. He wonders if things could be different if he had gone to that date, perhaps they would actually hit it off well, who knows; alas, fate worked in mysterious ways and Kise focuses on things he exactly wanted, such as a successful career. With this in mind, he decides that he can do it. He can go to that New Year’s party, even meet with Ms. Aomine’s son, and politely establish an understanding that he cannot have anything to do with the said son.

 

In other words, he decided that in the worst case he could lie that he had a boyfriend. While he has nobody he calls with that title, there is at least one guy he regularly receives dick selfies from and if push comes to shove, he could find someone… Or find someone to pretend to be his boyfriend. He raises and then drops his head with force onto the pillow and repeats this action multiple times very fast as though he is stabbing his pillow with his face.

 

_Damn_. His life feels like the worst kind of shoujo manga sometimes.

 

After another five minutes spent brooding, his alarm starts ringing and he roughly grabs his phone from under the pillow next to him, swiping the blinking icon with unnecessary pressure to stop the noise. He stays still for a moment or two but knows he cannot stay depressed at home; he has work to do, meetings to attend, and he will also have to do laundry that evening. He sighs and shifts to lie on his back again and lifts his mobile phone up a bit to check the weather. He then goes through his unread messages and for a bit of self-indulgence—because he seriously craves it then—he taps to Daiki’s name and slides up through their previous conversations which constitute witty exchanges of few words and some very nsfw photos that Kise takes time to appreciate once again. When he has gone through them all, he exhales loudly and drops the phone near him; suddenly he feels like chuckling and he does not keep it.

 

He chuckles, cackles, laughs and rather than happy he sounds pained.

 

_Fuck. I’m so fucked._

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So let me get this right,” Kuroko says with a level voice that is less bored than usual, “you are saying that there is a possibility that you may need me to be your fake boyfriend in the coming weeks, assuming something that will happen in a few minutes does not go as you are hoping?”

 

“Yes, yes,” Kise responds, openly pleading, “just that. Please Kurokocchi. Pretty Please.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

“Well I know that it’s a bit unusual and kind of like in a romcom or something—“

 

“No, not because of that. Mostly because you are the second person to come to me with such a request.”

 

“Huh? That’s weird.”

 

“Indeed, it is.”

 

“But you’ll do it?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“C’mon Kurokocchi! This is a life and death situation.”

 

“No, it isn’t. Whoever it is that you are planning to reject, just do it politely and they will understand.”

 

“You’re talking as if you don’t know how men are!”

 

“I am a man. So are you. An adult male who needs to act maturely.”

 

“But—“

 

“I’m hanging up now.”

 

“No! No—Kurokocchi please no—“

 

The disconnect tone that starts ringing like the ominous shrieking of a banshee cause Kise to slowly hit his forehead to the door but he immediately realises that this is a toilet stall’s door that he has just touched with his head and stands back. He whispers a curse and genuinely scowls, wanting to punch the door in front of him but that would only mean more icky contact. Hence, he opens it and gets out of the tiny place, moves towards the sink and puts his hand beneath the tap which starts flowing water with a quiet beep. He meticulously washes his hands and face, using generous amounts of liquid soap which he notes to have a pleasant scent of jasmine, which might be the single and not very significant silver lining of his day.

 

Fridays were supposed to be blessed but his has been awful so far.

 

As the first bad omen of the day, he woke up late, not hearing the alarm. Rushing to the office, he forgot leave the suit he was planning to wear for the company event to the dry cleaners. The tea he drank at work was too hot and he burned his tongue. His team leader was extra fussy the whole day and he got scolded for the littlest errors. When he finished his shift, he realised that he didn’t have to drop by the dry cleaning to get his clothes because he had forgotten to leave them there in the first place. Hence he hurried home, knowing that it would take him hours to find a new outfit that he deemed good enough but he got caught in the rush hour and had to endure armpit sweat of a salaryman for forty-five minutes. Once he reached home and quickly got into the shower, he found out that for some reason hot water was only lukewarm but he had no time to lose so he resigned himself to it.

 

At least the clothes he found himself were not so bad—thanks to his extensive wardrobe, he affirms himself as he plays with his hair in front of the mirror, ensuring that it still looks properly shaped and fluffy before he leaves for the ballroom where the party is going on.

 

Given that it is a professional occasion, music is not loud and people are dressed more formal than Kise is used to for an actual ‘party’. He straightens the cuffs of his dress shirt and dons a winner smile that will maximise his dazzling effect on people. He can do it, he knows he can, he got out of even hairier situations before. After all, it isn’t even certain that Ms. Aomine’s son will be interested in him—he smirks with this thought, who is he kidding; unless the guy had allergy to blonds or good-looks, it would be near impossible for him to not be affected by his charm. He will have to try turn it off near this Mysterious Mr. Aomine though, it will be tough, but he has done it before—that one time a police officer was hitting on him. It had been difficult but he had managed to be annoying enough; Kuroko says being annoying as much a natural talent of his as basketball is.

 

He is drinking some champagne and beaming confident but polite small smiles when he hears the familiar voice of his manager, he inhales deeply and exhales; _you can do it_ , he both commands and cheers himself in one thought. He moves to turn back and comes face to face with a tall and grumpy looking man; smooth brown skin and deep blue eyes, hair cut short and shoulders wide.

 

This man is no stranger though, or rather is not so much a stranger in the sense that Kise at least knows his name, phone number, first name, voice, moans, and naked body. And his penis—Kise knows his penis relatively well considering he has been getting pictures of it for weeks now.

 

Kise swallows and notes that Daiki’s eyebrows rise, his lips parting in slight surprise; he is about to exclaim “what are you doing here?!” to his very skilled and unfairly hot one night stand from months ago when the familiar voice he heard a moment ago is there again, which allows Kise to register that she, his dear superior Ms. Aomine is also there, standing right next to Daiki and— _oh no, oh no this can’t be—_

 

“Kise-kun. How are you tonight? You look great. By the way this is my son, Daiki.”

 

Kise is shocked, he is frozen the way he is standing there like that and he is lucky that he hasn’t dropped his glass of champagne yet out of bewilderment but when Daiki—'Aomine Daiki'—smirks, the grip of surprise on Kise trembles. This is happening, he realises, the son of my boss whom she has been trying to introduce me to is actually the guy I slept months ago and developed an unhealthy addiction to dick of.

 

He swallows on nothing once again and Daiki— _no, no_ —‘Aomine’s smirk deepens. In fact, he seems much less affected and nods slowly before offering a hand which Kise stares at suspiciously for a second until ‘Aomine’ clears his throat and says:

 

“Aomine Daiki. You could call me Daiki if you’d like though.”

 

He is frustrated now. Frustrated and taken and that smirk looks really attractive on Daiki—in fact Kise recalls that thing Daiki did with his tongue because he had smirked just as so right before doing that and he wants to mentally slap himself because he should not be thinking of such things there and then and also he feels that he should definitely refuse Daiki’s—‘Aomine’s suggestion to be called so intimately because then Ms. Aomine could get unwarranted ideas. These go through his mind in rapid succession as he takes ‘Aomine’s firm and warm hand and hears his boss chuckle.

 

“Oh dear, but maybe Kise-kun would feel that it’s too informal?”

 

“I bet he calls you Aomine-san though, it would be weird if I’m called the same thing right?” Aomine shrugs after he finishes shaking Kise’s hand and then looks at Kise again, the smug curve of his lips back in action; “But of course, you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with, Kise? Kise-san?”

 

“Just Kise is fine,” Kise forces a smile despite the knots in his stomach, “and thank you but I would prefer calling you Aomine. I don’t think any mix ups should occur.”

 

Aomine purses his lips and shoots a doubtful look which Kise is burning to return but does not feel ready to as his manager is still scrutinising him.

 

“Oh well I will have to go see Senior Director Munakata but why don’t you two get to know each other? Do you mind Kise? My Daiki doesn’t really know anyone here and you two are just the same age!”

 

“Of course I don’t mind,” Kise assures her, “have a lovely chat.”

 

“So understanding, always. You should take cues from him,” she nudges her son who snorts and earns another, not-so-gentle nudge from his mother.

 

“Well I’ll leave you two then,” she gesture a tiny bye-bye with her hand which Kise returns with a smile that goes broken the second she is out of sight.

 

“That went well,” Aomine quips before taking a long sip from the wine he is holding and Kise could set the whole building on fire with the fury and panic that’s building up in him.

 

“What the hell you mean ‘well’?! And why the fuck you never told me your family name?!”

 

“Because I don’t tell my family name to strangers I meet on bars. What if you stalked me or something?”

 

“That’s ridi—“ Kise pauses when he recalls all the times he actually got stalkers and how it was one of the reasons he stopped having one night stands, barring Aomine Daiki who had managed to break through his defences, partly thanks to the long-going dry spell he was grappling. “That actually makes sense,” he admits two seconds of consideration later and the way Aomine is so relaxed allows him to relax slightly too.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Shoot?”

 

“Did you stalk me?”

 

Aomine almost chokes on his drink and Kise can swear Aomine is lightly flushed but it is hard to see with how dark Aomine’s complexion is and the fact that he has obviously been drinking.

 

“Why would you think that? Of course I didn’t. If anything, I should be asking you that.”

 

“Huh? The hell? I would never stalk anyone.”

 

“Says the guy who has been asking dick pics from a one night stand—how many? 3 months ago?”

 

Kise’s mouth opens mostly out of disbelief and he cannot find the right words of rebuttal.

 

“You once asked me to send a photo of my cock in fucking 3 am.” Aomine raises his chin, almost looking down on, which agitates Kise’s nerves enough that his state of speechlessness is broken.

 

“You were the one who sent it first!”

 

“It was an accident!”

 

“How do I know that? Maybe it was part of an elaborate plan to lead to—“ Kise makes random hand gestures pointing to the both of them, “to this whatever this is.”

 

Aomine downs whatever alcohol left in his glass at once and then exhales audibly before glaring at Kise.

 

“I had no idea that you were you, okay? She has been begging me to attend this thing since a month ago and yes, she did mention there was a subordinate she would like to introduce me but she never actually told me this subordinate’s name so I had no idea.”

 

It would be a lie to say he is not at all intimidated by Aomine’s glare but he holds his ground and keeps his sceptical gaze intact.

 

“Look, I’m not ashamed to admit that I don’t have any strategy skills to actually make such an elaborate plan to meet you again? I’d instead just IM you. You know, maybe after you ask me for a pic of my junk at 3 am?”

 

Kise closes eyes and sighs dejectedly; Aomine does appear sincere in his words. He takes a deep breath in and then lets it go, opening his eyes to find Aomine drinking from a new glass full of red win, his empty glass currently being taken away by a waiter who apparently just passed by them.

 

“Aren’t you taking it a bit too well? Why are you so comfortable?”

 

“Why do you think I’m drinking so much?”

 

“You were smirking.”

 

“You’re wearing the same earring that you wore that night so I remembered how I—“

 

“Yes. Yes, you did. Fine.”

 

“Plus this party is too stuffy and she has been pestering me for week and wow—“ Aomine snorts, “I mean you’ve asked me for a pic the last—when was it? Wednesday?”

 

“Can we just—“ Kise stops and shakes his head trying to come up with the right word, but failing he decides to take a sip from what’s left of his champagne instead.

 

“Start over?”

 

“Maybe? I don’t know. This is awkward.”

 

“Tell me about it. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t be a busty beauty still.”

 

It is Kise’s turn to glare but Aomine does not seem to mind, softly shaking his shoulders; “What? I’m bisexual.”

 

“I know. She told me.”

 

“She’s been telling you about me?” Aomine sounds genuinely surprised and perturbed, which is for some unknown reason very pleasing to Kise.

 

“Yeah. All sorts of stuff.”

 

“Like?”

 

“That you were tall?”

 

“No shit,” Aomine shakes his head and savours his drink before smiling, “at least she didn’t say anything funny.”

 

“Well, she did say you were a whiny, needy crybaby when you’re sick.”

 

Aomine successfully chokes on his drink and Kise grins, while so kindly patting his back in help.

 

“It’s true? Wow, I totally made that up.”

 

“You’re fucking evil.”

 

“I like to think I’m just playful.”

 

“Oh I know how playful you are.”

 

“Yeah and wouldn’t you like to see it again?”

 

It is out before he even thinks about it and hence he slaps his palm over his face immediately while Aomine titters.

 

“You’re so irritating.”

 

“I’m just a natural flirt, ok?”

 

“Fine. Whatever.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.” Kise steps back, pouting, his gaze hopping around the room to find a place he can leave his empty glass too—anything to change the subject or the mood.

 

“I never thought you were an engineer.”

 

He looks back at Aomine suspiciously; he didn’t expect the man to defuse the situation. If anything, he would assume Aomine would press on.

 

“I am though…”

 

“Apparently.” Aomine take another sip from his drink and looks around, Kise taking it as an opportunity to analyse the man before him, noting how Aomine’s clothing is less formal than everyone else’s, the first two buttons of his light blue dress shirt are popped open, exposing the delicious neck that Kise had—

 

He quickly shakes his head and tries to continue on the lead Aomine came up with; _small talk, just small talk, this is your forte, come on._

 

“So, what do you do?”

 

“She didn’t tell you?”

 

“Interestingly no. Or at least I can’t remember?”

 

“Hmm, you were not that interested?”

 

“Well my boss’ son is a very risky option and I’m not necessarily looking for someone.”

 

“Makes sense I guess.”

 

“So?”

 

“I’m a police officer. Special Assault Team.”

 

“Oh.”

 

All sorts of images start attacking Kise’s mind.

 

“’ _Oh’_?” Aomine intones. “Don’t tell me you have a thing for cops?”

 

“No!” Kise barks a little too passionately for it to sound honest and the heat he can feel attacking his cheeks is a dead giveaway. “It’s just,” he decides to explain, “it’s just a uniform thing.”

 

“A uniform thing?”

 

“A uniform thing. Shit. We really should stop talking about this stuff what if someone hears…”

 

Aomine chuckles before shrugging, “Not really my problem but whatever.”

 

“So,” Kise starts, now a bit more interested in what this person has to offer against his previous judgement, “why is she so fixated on introducing you to people?”

 

Aomine lets out a low groan that reminds Kise things he really should not remember—he swallows the imaginary lump of the urge in his throat.

 

“My last boyfriend cheated on me and since then I haven’t had anyone. She thinks I’m depressed.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“No. Sure it hurt but at least I got out of it early. I'm just lazy? Like, I’ve just always been lazy. She doesn’t know because she was absent most of the time during my teenage years so all she knows is my hyper-active childhood and I guess she is also trying to make it better now? All sorts of miscommunication.”

 

“You could talk to her.”

 

“I tried, she doesn’t listen. She’s all about how weird it is for a grown man to be either at work or at the basketball court. Or sleeping.”

 

“Yeah, she told me you liked basketball.”

 

“Probably complained?”

 

“Not really but that may be because she actually said it after I was talking about playing basketball with some friends?”

 

“Oh so it was her sales pitch.”

 

Both of them snicker.

 

“Which position do you play?” Kise asks then; his boss had made it sound like Aomine was almost at pro-level but he doubts it.

 

“Power forward.”

 

When Kise simpers Aomine pinches his eyebrows all seriously and asks, “What?”

 

“Nothing, nothing. I play small forward.”

 

“Hmm,” Aomine hums, unabashedly checking out Kise.

 

“What?”

 

“Just sizing you up to see how good you are.”

 

“Well I can tell you already that I’m good enough to kick your ass.”

 

Aomine’s eyebrows lift up at first and then when they come back down his eyes are narrowed and flash with something Kise cannot fathom but is electrified for nevertheless. The features of Aomine’s face are almost predatory; a little bit like what Kise remembers his face looked when they were having sex. Kise’s competitive spirit flares up and he levels a similarly voracious gaze. Aomine smirks.

 

“You really think you can beat me up pretty boy?”

 

“Oh I can beat you up and then some more.”

 

“Let’s see what you’ve got for real then?”

 

The spell on Kise is broken a little as he purses his lips for a second before wondering out loud; “What do you mean?”

 

“I saw a street ball court like four blocks away on my way here.”

 

“You’re saying we should ditch the party and go play basketball?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“In these clothes?”

 

“Yes? Sure it will be a bit cold but.”

 

“A bit?”

 

“Oh, you’re scared?”

 

“What?! No, no I’m not scared.”

 

“What’s the matter then?” Aomine all but growls in a low voice, stepping in and invading Kise’s space, using the couple of centimetres of height advantage he has to his fullest by glancing down on Kise’s face and right that instance Kise knows it’s too late. This is terribly irresponsible of him and he still has a ton of networking he was supposed to do but it is all too late. He is burning to show this smug asshole what he’s made of in the court and he needs to extinguish this fire right away.

 

“Fine,” he grits between his teeth, “show the way.”

 

“Sure,” Aomine smiles and instead of the hungry aura mere minutes ago, he looks joyful like a child and it does some strange things to Kise’s stomach; it is as if there are tiny critters living there and currently throwing a party, small spasms accompanied by touches of anxiety and pleasure. He blinks and Aomine is pulling him towards the exit; the little party in his stomach calms down a bit then but the forearm that Aomine is holding feels a bit hotter than rest of his body. 

 

He sighs and does his best to calm down because he has a basketball game to win and neither of them is aware of the gleeful smile Ms. Aomine is giving from afar to them as they exit the ballroom.

 


End file.
